Winter Nightmare
by Raivis-Latvijas
Summary: Bosnia is tormented in the night by memories of the Bosnian War. Montenegro is there to help. Through the touch of caring hands and the warmth provided by them, even scars of mental trauma can be faded. The knowledge that someone is there to hold you can help in ways some could never imagine. OCs BosniaxMontenegro.


Winter had crept in on Sarajevo like a thief in the night. Snow had buffeted the capital; ice on the roads had caused more than a few crashes, snow still drifted slowly from the clouds… Yes, winter was here. Zlatko Pilav felt it in his bones. The cold had set into his chest like his heart was made of ice. It once practically had been, back in the nineties, but those days were long past for the representation of the former Yugoslav nation; Bosnia and Herzegovina.

He had felt a renewed warmth every day he took a walk along his once warring capital's streets and saw that the people, though slowly, were recovering and getting used to life more than twenty years since the beginning of the collapse of Yugoslavia.

Zlatko didn't remember everything from back then. A lot he had repressed in his memory, and still repressed to this day, but some things he had come to recall. Something he took some pleasure in remembering was the romance he once shared with the representation of the nearby nation of Montenegro; Branko Njegos. He had, in time, accepted Branko back into his heart after a series of events that had forced him to remember the unfortunate events that caused the two gay men to separate.

Zlatko and Branko looked very different. Branko was a handsome, muscular man, albeit rather short compared to 6'3" lover. He had light brown hair as opposed to Zlatko's rather dark shade. Branko's lay messily no matter how much he combed it, while Zlatko's was a bit longer, and styled off to one side. There was a similarity in the tone of their eyes, both in the fact that they were pale green, and the fact that they were surrounded in dark circles from a lack of adequate sleep. One rather stirring difference in the two men were the conditions of the skin that covered their bodies. Branko had some scars and wear from the past that he preferred not to speak of, but Zlatko… He bore the worst scars most people ever saw that didn't come from something of a burn victim. Zlatko's skin was marred by scar after scar, from the self-inflicted ones on his wrists from the days he needed to feel something or not feel anything anymore, to the war-inflicted once of his combative, victimized past. He rarely showed his tattered skin. He was highly uncomfortable in private with just himself and Branko, let alone in public.

Zlatko sat in his home, a grey sweater and jeans to conceal the marks he so wished to forget. He had a cup of coffee in hand, with the television on the news in front of his couch where he resided. He knew Branko would be stopping by soon. The Montenegrin man always did. Every weekend he took the drive to Sarajevo from Podgorica, and enjoyed spending even the most boring time with Zlatko.

Zlatko never understood why Branko could stand him. The Bosnian had mood swings, was often harsh or aggressive in his tone of voice or manner of speaking, and sometimes even rejected Branko's simple displays of affection or attempts at conversation. He was cold and hard to love, yet Branko, such a devoted, loyal, and loving man, had his heart set on Zlatko, no matter what came their way. Zlatko had been forced to break up with Branko at the start of the nineties. Branko didn't seem like he was about to allow that to happen any time soon.

Zlatko released a heavy sigh from his lungs then took a sip of his steaming coffee, biting his lip at the all-too familiar pain of not waiting until his coffee was cooled down enough to drink. Impatience. One of Zlatko's rather undesirable traits that Branko put up with. The Bosnian set the coffee on the short table at his knees and shook his head slightly at a remark made on the news. Some slander to the Serbian people Zlatko had come not to forgive, but to at least render as a neutral force instead of an enemy. It would take a long, long time for him to forgive the Serbs, and the Croats for that matter, for what happened in the Yugoslav Wars, exclusively the Bosnian War.

As Zlatko stood to get the newspaper from the kitchen, he heard the door to his apartment open. Branko had arrived. He changed his destination from the kitchen to the front door to welcome his boyfriend. He walked from his spot at the couch to the front of the apartment, approaching the arriving man.

"How was the drive?" He asked quietly. Branko looked to him and smiled as he shed his red military-style coat, hanging it on the coat rack by the door.

"It was alright. A little cold, but not too bad." Branko said, crouching down to remove his boots from his feet. Zlatko nodded his head.

"I'm glad you made it safely… To be honest I was worried you may not make it this weekend because of how harsh the weather has been."

Branko to Zlatko as he stood after removing his footwear. "What? Did you miss me or something?" He chuckled. Zlatko smiled lightly and opened his arms to the shorter man. Branko accepted the gesture without hesitation, wrapping his arms around the Bosnian's chest and hugging the warmer man. Noting how cold Branko was, Zlatko held him a bit tighter.

"Come… Let's sit on the couch." He said, letting go of the man and going back to the living room. Branko followed and the two sat side by side. Zlatko handed his boyfriend the remote to the television and Branko smiled.

"Letting me choose the show? Oh this should be wonderful." The muscular man joked. Zlatko smiled and leaned back, chewing on a fingernail. Branko gently swatted Zlatko's fingers away from his mouth.

"Hey now, no fingernail chewing. You said you were trying to stop." He chided, though in a lighthearted manner.

"I said the same with drinking and smoking." Zlatko responded.

"And have you quit?"

Zlatko shook his head slightly. "I have cut back quite a bit on drinking though… Smoking more though."

"Zlatko," Branko sighed slightly. "You have to stop both. You can't just compensate with one for the other. Quitting doesn't work that way, silly." He poked Zlatko's cheek with an extended finger before turning back to the television and flipping through the channels to find a show.

The two winded up watching some kind of baking competition show, and then half of an overly dramatic romance movie that Zlatko kept criticizing.

"Why not just ask him to his face? It's much simpler that way. Why go to her friends to see if he's available?" He had muttered.

"Because, she's nervous. I was the same way with you forty years ago, you know. Not that I had to worry about you not being single, but I didn't know if you were gay, or if you liked me in any way, or anything like that." Branko explained.

"So, if what you're saying is take as you're saying that you're this character… you were an overly-girly, stereotypical university student out to find the most handsome dick to ride?"

Branko smacked Zlatko's arm. "Zlatko! She is not that way!" He crossed his arms. "And neither was I. I was very dignified in my curiosity."

"About what were you curious, again?"

Branko sighed. "The possibility of me getting in your pants." He joked. "But really, Zlatko, I was curious whether or not I could spark a romance with you, and lo and behold, I hit the jackpot. Yeah, you didn't open up right away to me, but you were very nice and calm and understanding until everything went to hell… But we're back together and I'm not afraid. I know I can get in your pants anyways, Mr. Pilav."

Zlatko's face reddened slightly. "And I thought I was bad."

A few hours passed of conversation and television, and Zlatko could see the tiredness setting in on Branko. He was leaning on Zlatko's shoulder, eyes half-shut, body relaxed, breathing slow with the occasional yawn. The Bosnian man smiled slightly and wrapped an arm around the other male.

"What do you say we head to bed? You're tired." He said.

"Are you tired at all, Zlatko?" Branko responded, shifting a bit.

Zlatko shrugged slightly. "A little. I'm sure if I lie down I'll be able to sleep."

"If you say so…" Branko muttered in reply, getting up. Zlatko stood as well and followed Branko to the bedroom. The two lay down under the covers, Branko laying on his side, facing towards Zlatko, who lay on his back.

"Can I… Can I lay on your chest, Zlatko, or will it be uncomfortable for you? I just want to make sure you get some sleep too…" Branko said. Zlatko turned his head and moved his arm as if to welcome the Montenegrin into his personal space. Branko moved to lay his head on Zlatko's broad chest, smiling, hand resting over the man's heart. Zlatko smiled as well.

"Goodnight, Branko." He stated.

"Mhm… I love you, Zlatko…"

Zlatko responded quietly. "I love you too." The words were tender coming out of his mouth. Love was an emotion he had denied himself until he had gotten back with Branko after around twenty years of separation. The warmth Branko provided had warmed the icy shell the Bosnian representation had built around his heart.

While Branko drifted off to sleep, Zlatko found himself getting more and more tired, until finally he receded into slumber just like his lover. Though the Bosnian man's rest was much more fretful than the man on top of him.

In his dreams, he recalled darker days. Memories drifted around in his head. They were like chain links, some were solid, some were barely there, others were broken, and some were just completely missing. It was as if fog had clouded his mind. In this night's nightmare, he relived a terrible memory he didn't want to reminisce in ever again.

The pain and suffering of massacred civilians, the dread of war and the agony of the wounds Zlatko had suffered. The blood he saw staining the ground and the blood on his hands and the blood dripping down his body. The cold gripping his heart. The intense throbbing within his skull. He felt it as he remembered it. He saw the faces of children left to die. He heard the screams of mothers being captured, just to be raped and suffer the same fate as those in the graves before them. He felt the sting of the bullet in his neck. And with a start, he awoke, hours after he had fallen asleep, drenched in sweat, shaking, nauseas, and crying.

Branko sat up next to him, hands on his shoulders. He had been trying to wake him.

"Zlatko, are you okay?" He asked worriedly. Zlatko lay silent for a few moments, the tears slowly cascading down his cheeks. He sat up and covered his mouth with a trembling hand, shaking his head. Branko gently wiped away the tears and fixed Zlatko's hair, pulling him into a warm, comforting embrace. Zlatko pushed him away slightly and stood, going to the bathroom. He removed his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it, looking himself in the mirror.

He could practically feel the pain in his scars once again. He reached with a shaky hand and felt his neck. A bullet from a sniper. He slid it down to the mass of scars over his chest. He couldn't even identify all of them. Some were stab wounds, some were burns, and some were gunshots. He slid the hand down to his stomach, feeling a deep scar from a nasty stab wound, then took both hands and placed them in the sides of the sink, staring into his eyes in his reflection.

Branko approached him. "Zlatko… it was about the war, wasn't it?"

Zlatko nodded quietly. "… Same one as usual…"

"I'm so sorry…"

"I don't need your pity." Zlatko snapped, then sighed resignedly. "… Sorry…"

"No, it's okay… I understand." Branko said, forcing a smile no matter how much Zlatko's unintentionally harsh words hurt. He placed a careful, soft hand upon the Bosnian's back, Zlatko tense and clearly upset.

"Why don't you get in the shower…? It may help you relax and clean the sweat off of you…" He suggested.

"Would… Would you take it with me, Branko…? I… want to do something to make me forget that nightmare… I want to live the dream that is loving you…" Zlatko glance to Branko, his words sincere and meaningful, hinted with pain and regret. Branko gently hugged the broken man.

"Of course." He replied. Zlatko's intentions were far from sexual. He just wanted to blot out the hate in his memories with knowing the love he had right in front of him. What better way to know you're cared for than to let them see everything; all of Zlatko's scars, all of his memories, all of his pain. Branko knew how to treat Zlatko to make him forget the torment, at least temporarily.

The two stripped down silently, until they were in their most exposed states. The water in the shower was somewhere between warm and hot; a comfortable level. They both stood under the water, Branko's hands gently massaging the other man's body, comfortable with the scars under his fingers. Zlatko had fought and survived. Zlatko placed his hands on Branko's sides, looking him in the eyes. Branko smiled sweetly, inflicting Zlatko with a warming feeling in his chest. That smile was something he loved to see.

Branko brought his hands up to the sides of Zlatko's neck, then pulled the man into a kiss. Zlatko drew their bodies together, not minding the contact. He was comfortable with this man. Loved by this man. Warmed by the man more than the burning of his coffee that he always drank or the heat of the water that currently drizzled upon them from the showerhead.

As their lips separated, Zlatko pressed his forehead to the other man's, expression somber. Branko placed a hand on the taller male's cheek.

"I love you." He murmured.

Zlatko didn't respond, but Branko didn't need it. He knew in his heart and mind that Zlatko loved him. Zlatko was the one who needed the words said, for reassurance to quell his fears of being alone again.

Branko gently washed Zlatko's marred skin with body wash, hands moving slowly across the scars, as if with each one he could perhaps ease the man's pain. Zlatko did the same for Branko, formerly shaking hands calmed and sliding across the muscles on his lover's body, adoring him. The two locked eyes once again and Zlatko smiled slightly.

"I love you too." He stated simply as his hand slid around the other man's waist. Branko wrapped his arms around Zlatko's neck and softly kissed him before speaking as well.

"You're a fighter, my dear… You're a survivor… A living, breathing, monument to perseverance… And you're my lover all the same… I adore you… I need you as much as you need me… And I want you as much as you want me… You've shattered all belief that you weren't strong… You proved yourself and earned your recovery… A long, long recovery, but yours which I will do everything I can to ease along… You're handsome no matter your scars… A wonderful man no matter if you don't believe it…"

Zlatko didn't know whether it was water or tears dripping down his face at this point. He wished he had any way to respond to the words coming out of Branko's mouth. The Montenegrin's lips moved to praise the broken Bosnian, and Zlatko had no response to the gracious selflessness.

Branko merely smiled and shut off the water, gently pulling the Bosnian out of the shower and back to the bed, despite the face they were still dripping wet. He gently lay down and guided Zlatko to lay on his chest, instead of the other way around.

Zlatko felt a strange comfort in being held, but it was a comfort nonetheless. Branko pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

"I'll always be here for you, Zlatko… Now sleep… This time I'm sure you'll be alright." He whispered, Zlatko shut his eyes, body relaxing, breathing slowing just like before. Somehow he knew Branko was right. Somehow he knew this time he'd sleep peacefully, without nightmares. Branko was there to hold him and care for him no matter the terrors of his mind.

It was a love worth holding onto.


End file.
